Melodies of Life
by Mikael-Macbeth
Summary: X SONGFIC, Roy x Archer, an attempt at making this pairing canon X …And the funny thing is, even if you were to laugh at me and then pull the trigger… As long as I remember you the way I do… I would still love you.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy Mustang, Frank Archer, or any other characters mentioned. I just attempt to make that damn RoyArch pairing canon. **_

_AN: Aaah, I am way overdue for another RoyArch (well, my last one was ArchRoy, with Archer topping, but this strikes me more as the other way around. Eh, I don't know) and so I have written this. _

_This is my attempt at canonizing RoyArch. _

_Set to the song "Melodies of Life" by Emiko Shiratori from the game Final Fantasy IX. Both a beautiful song and excellent game._

_Expect LOTS of spoilers, as this goes all the way from where Archer is first introduced to the last episode to the movie. You have been warned._

_So, please enjoy, and it's kind of long, so you might want to crack open a can of soda or get a snack. And please, leave a lovely little review if you like what you read. C:_

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* * *

**

**Alone for a while**

**I've been searching through the dark**

**For traces of the love you left**

**Inside my lonely heart**

**To weave by picking up the pieces that remain**

**Melodies of life**

**Love's lost refrain…**

"You're going to go crazy out here, you know, all by yourself."

Roy shifted his eye, for one had become shielded by an eye-patch in a most unfortunate incident, downward, grinning.

"Hawkeye said the same thing to me, and so now I guess you're going to chastise me as well," he said after a time, unable to look at the young blonde-haired Second Lieutenant. First Lieutenant, now, actually. Young Jean Havoc had been doing well for himself.

"I'd just… like to know why you insist on having this post, way out in the middle on nowhere," Havoc countered, crossing his arms to try and keep himself somewhat warm. Way up north here, though, it was just a waste of energy even attempting to stay warm.

"…Let's just say… I'm searching through the dark… for something."

Havoc raised an eyebrow, curious, but dared not press the former brigadier general any further.

"Very well, I suppose. Now you're sure you don't want to head back to Central with me? Fuhrer Hakuro has often spoken about how impressed he is with your agenda."

Roy answered slowly, with an often-used, often-practiced sigh, "No, Havoc, just being an enlisted man is enough for me."

The blonde stood slowly and stretched, then trudged to the door and prepared for the cold.

"Well, then I'll be seeing you, Gen—I mean… Officer Mustang."

The fierce wind blew inward and then snapped short as Havoc exited, leaving Roy to himself once more.

Indeed, he probably was going to go crazy, eventually, by just sitting out in the middle of this winter-land with no one but himself to talk to. But still… he might learn quite a few things about himself he might never know otherwise.

"…You would scoff at me if you knew what I've become," Roy said to nothing. He smiled, taking a sip of his coffee and staring at a lingering image on his mantelpiece. He could hear, softly, as if far away, a slow melody playing in his ear, ringing pleasantly from his record player.

It was so… sad.

Like love's lost refrain.

"Oh yes, you would just laugh at me…"

**Our paths they did cross**

**Now I cannot say just why…**

"So, General Hakuro tells me that your name is… Frank Archer, is that right?"

The pale man looked upward with icy eyes and allowed a most arrogant smile to pass his thin lips.

"Yes, that would be my name. And you're the famous Colonel Roy Mustang, whose exploits in Ishbal are known far and wide, correct?"

Roy nodded, looking deep into his cup of tea as a sailor might stare deep into the ocean, searching for a buried secret. This man… he was so cold in his ways, like he had a shield built up around his heart.

"I suppose that you're to 'look after me,' correct?"

Roy nodded again.

It was so… strange that he and Archer seemed to be stuck together, ever since Hughes's death. And it… bothered him, that this man had taken up his best friend's desk, his space, his… life. And now Roy was responsible for supervising Archer, which only added insult to injury. Just the thought… Ugh.

But he would take the situation, as it was, no need to complain.

There was a reason for everything, even if he couldn't say just why at the time…

**We met…**

"Lieutenant Colonel Archer, may I speak with you?"

The pale man seemed to be deep in thought, deep in paperwork, but somehow, he always found the time to run to the Colonel's every beck and call.

Which was nice, of course. Hughes had been so stubborn at times that Roy sometimes wanted to torch his hair off his head.

"What is it you need, Colonel?"

He was acting well enough, saluting, stiff and rigid as a plastic toy-soldier.

Generic, fake.

But Roy knew better, that beneath that fakeness was something… real. Beneath it was a person, a person with which he might actually be able to… converse.

"Sit down, please. I just… wanted to talk to you."

Archer seemed to pause a moment, a small grin working at the corners of his lips.

"Really, sir?"

"Well… it's just that, ever since Hughes—Brigadier General Hughes… well, died," Roy paused, almost too overcome to go on, but he urged himself forward, "I've just felt… alone. I don't feel like I have anyone to talk to, to become close to. And maybe…"

Archer stalked to a seat and daintily placed himself upon it, his eyes reading confusion.

"Oh, forget it. I'm just—"

"No, please… go on."

The Colonel stopped short, then chuckled. It seemed like Archer was actually… interested.

"I've just felt so… so cut out of everything, so… disconnected…"

Archer listened intently, and hung on Roy's every word.

**We laughed… **

"Funny Armstrong impression, Breda, but really, it's time to work."

The redhead winced, quickly removing the blonde mustache and smiling coyly.

"C'mon, Mustang, you don't need to be so—"

"Really, now, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, this is an office for working, not practical jokes," Archer cut in coldly, giving a vicious smile that could freeze frog-blood.

Breda immediately silenced himself, running back to his desk to look over paperwork or something of that nature.

Roy sighed at his inability to keep his subordinates in check, then returned to his own office. Actually, he had his own mountain of paperwork to climb, not to mention several other small knolls and hills of it to conquer.

Taking his seat, he rested his elbows on his desk, not really in the best of moods to work. He'd much rather be out doing something else, anything else, rather than sitting behind this desk staring at the walls. He wanted to be free. And not just free of this place, but free of all places. Free to do what he wanted, where and when he wanted.

The thought of true freedom was almost too much.

"Excuse me, Colonel, may I enter?"

At the sound of Archer's muffled voice, Roy uttered a short "come in" and so entered the pale man, as stoic and blank as ever. But still, it was that blankness and stoic-ness that drew Roy in so well, like a mystery that needed to be solved.

"What is it, Lieutenant Colonel…?" asked the Flame Alchemist, not really in the brightest of moods at the moment. He got that way with all his non-freedom thinking.

"You know, Colonel, I was thinking…"

Archer stalked over, hand behind his back with something hinting at a smile on his face.

"…I was thinking… you'd look great with a mustache."

The Lieutenant Colonel held the blonde Armstrong mustache beneath Roy's nose, and chuckled, causing the alchemist to break into a smile as well.

Then he started to laugh.

Ugh, he just couldn't help himself.

**We held on fast…**

It was raining.

Roy hated the rain. But in a way… it was cleansing. It made him remember things, and then forget them again. Whenever he found the time, he always liked to stand out in the rain just to wash away himself.

"I thought I'd find you here."

The Flame Alchemist whirled about, his eyes catching ice in obsidian.

Today, Archer wore black, but even in mourning clothes, Roy found himself… attracted.

More and more, he was looking at this man in a new light. Ever since he had opened up to him, he had found himself so attached, more-so than maybe even with Hughes. But… Roy wasn't about to take that step into unexplored ground. No, he couldn't.

Archer looked down, as though he was almost ashamed of coming.

"I knew you and Hughes were close… I couldn't find you anywhere on the grounds, so I knew I'd find you here. I… didn't mean to intrude."

"It's no problem," Roy said quickly, quicker than he thought he would.

They stood silent for a while, one waiting for the other to speak.

"I… I really like you, Colonel."

Roy looked upward to see that trained on him were Archer's silvery-blue eyes, and for a moment they weren't at all ice, but something… melted. Something… vulnerable.

"And, I like you, Archer. Is there something bothering you…?"

Archer seemed to falter for a moment, as if he were trying to gather his wits about him enough to say something.

"…What I mean is, I think I…"

Roy shut Archer up quickly by placing a swift hand on his cheek.

"If you say it, we'll both be doomed."

Leaning into Roy's hand, the paler man seemed to sigh, content at the touch.

"We're both too ambitious, both after the same goal, and both doomed to a life of despair if we say what I think is both on our minds—"

"I don't care, Mustang," Archer cut in, his voice hinging with something of emotion, and it was the first time Roy had ever heard such desperation in the man's voice. "I don't care how damned I'll be… I love you."

It was raining, and not a soul was around, save those of the dead, to witness the kiss between the Flame Alchemist and the warmonger.

**And then we said goodbye…**

"I'm going to be investigating Lab Five for a while, so I'll be away for quite some time. Also, I'm in charge of tracking down the Elric brothers, and you're quite aware of their tendencies towards mischief. This could be my biggest break yet."

It was back to ice, back to cold.

Roy fitted himself back into his nightshirt and lounge pants as Archer buttoned up his uniform to meet with the Fuhrer to receive all of the details of his travels.

No matter how much the Colonel wanted to believe otherwise, Archer's job came before him. No matter how much he squirmed under Roy's touch and moaned out his name, Archer's duties came first.

No matter how much Roy wanted to deny it… Archer was a monster.

But… a monster he loved.

"…I'll miss you," the Flame Alchemist stated quietly, brushing back his hair with a tired hand to try and distract his tears from falling.

Archer softened, melted, and sat down beside Roy with a sigh.

"I'll miss you too, of course."

Roy leaned in to peck Archer on the lips sweetly, and the other man pulled back and sauntered to the door.

"I'll call you, of course, since I'll be mainly doing field-work and you wouldn't be able to get a hold of me. And you needn't worry about me. Any guilty parties found will be apprehended, perhaps imprisoned or executed, and I'll be back in no time."

Archer spoke of death so casually, it almost made Roy sick.

But… still, he was so attached to the frigid warmonger that he could overlook it. Something so fascinated Roy, that he longed to look deeper beneath that cold exterior of porcelain to find… something, anything, else.

"Goodbye, Frank."

Archer got up, his hand slipping right out of Roy's reach.

"Goodbye, Roy."

**And who'll hail the echoes of stories never told?**

**Let them ring out loud 'til they unfold…**

It was raining again that day, but Roy couldn't find time to leave. He was buried under paperwork, as usual, so he knew there was nothing else he could do but stare out the window and long for the day to end.

Archer… hadn't called like he said he would, and Roy was beginning to lose hope. What if he had gotten killed somewhere along the way…? Or, what might prove to be worse in Roy's mind, what if he had found another…? Someone… better?

No, no one was better than the Flame Alchemist, Archer had said so himself.

But… still the thoughts lingered, and depressed him even more than the thought of being barred from freedom.

Suddenly, the phone began ringing off the hook, louder it seemed than usual.

Casually, and trying not to let his voice falter, Roy picked up the receiver and stated calmly, "This is Colonel Mustang speaking. How may I help you?"

"Don't be so formal, Roy. It's me."

Roy's heart pounded in his ears at the sound of his voice—the voice he thought he had almost forgotten.

"F—Frank! I… I thought you weren't going to call at all."

"Please, Mustang, I would never forget to contact you. You've been my highest priority ever since I left. I had intended to call earlier, but we had found the Elrics, lost them, and then found a few rather suspicious characters, were having him interrogated at South Headquarters, and then suddenly, everything just fell apart. I've just been so busy, I haven't been able to find the time to do anything. Really, I'm very sorry."

The line cut into dead silence for a few moments, and then Archer continued on, "Look, I need to go. Something is very amiss here, and I'm not about to lose my control over this place."

Finally, Roy said very quietly, "I miss you."

He could hear Archer sigh on the other end, and then, "And I miss you. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye."

And then complete silence.

Carefully, Roy let the receiver drop back into place with a click, and his eyes locked to the rain outside the window.

It was a fitting day for a fitting feeling.

**In my dearest memories**

**I see you reaching out to me**

**Now you're gone**

**I still believe that you can call out my name…**

Roy was aware of the tirade taking place right in the middle of Central, in a place known as the Devil's Nest, but he hadn't known Archer had led it. He had thought Archer was still located back at South Headquarters, but in seeing him walking throughout _Central_ Headquarters again, the Flame Alchemist stopped a moment to take in his sight.

First, he was overcome with joy, but then it slowly faded into anger.

Trying to hide his feelings, he stomped toward Archer and placed a shaking hand on his shoulder.

"Why the Hell didn't you call me?"

But Archer, cool as ever, answered, "I was busy. There was a man that needed to be captured, and with the aid of a certain informant, he was brought down quickly. After that, they insisted I return here and continue further investigation lest there be more like that man running about, terrorizing the good people of Central."

Roy sighed.

Archer, so covered in ice, was one Roy could no longer see as a person.

Hope was slipping fast that this man could actually be human.

He was just so… gone.

"…Didn't you miss me, at all?" Roy asked quietly, hiding the shaking in his voice.

Archer smiled, but it was so… shallow.

"Of course, Mustang—"

Before Archer could continue on, the Flame Alchemist turned away. There he went again, delivering excuses in that damn condescending tone of his.

He couldn't stand to look at him anymore.

Swiftly he walked down the hall, leaving Archer behind him. He could hear distantly the pale man's voice calling.

"Colonel Mustang—! Roy!!"

Roy ignored the fact that Archer was calling out his name.

He just kept walking.

**A voice from the past**

**Joining yours and mine**

**Adding up the layers of harmony…**

He had seen the look on Archer's face, back in the Fuhrer's quarters.

It had been terribly obvious that he didn't want Roy anywhere near his big huge promotion that was about to occur with the downfall of the small desert once-paradise of Liore.

No matter how much Archer meant to the Flame Alchemist, he couldn't allow him to tyrannize those helpless people.

Roy was packing his things, preparing for the journey ahead, when Archer entered, his usual cool expression somewhat flustered.

"What the Hell did you do that for, Mustang?" the now-Colonel Archer seethed, pacing over to the Flame Alchemist in a matter of seconds and pressing a demanding hand to his shoulder, as if to turn him about.

But Roy remained immovable, and quietly said, "I have my reasons, Colonel. Those Elric kids have a lot on their hands, and it's up to me to dig them out, I guess."

Archer insisted, though, and gripped Roy's shoulder harder.

"You knew how much this meant to me. You knew how much I wanted this. And now you're taking it away from—"

The Flame Alchemist turned slowly about to meet nose-to-nose with the pale man, his face seemingly impassive.

"I'm not intending to take anything away from you. I have my own reasons for everything I do, Colonel Archer. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"You're not going anywhere without a decent explanation, Mustang! I won't stand for you trampling my chances of becoming Fuhrer."

And so it had turned into a shouting-match—one that Roy, in all honesty, preferred to avoid.

"What happened to you loving me, Colonel? What happened to that night, which seems so long ago? Do I mean nothing to you now?" Roy asked quietly, resting his hands gently on Archer's hips, causing the other man to glance away.

"I do love you… It's just that… I can't allow you to beat me. I promised myself this. I will become Fuhrer, and you're not going to stop me."

Roy sighed, loosening his hands and picking up his bags from the bed.

"So, it's going to be this way, is it?"

"…Yes, it is."

"Colonel Archer, it's time to get going," came a muffled voice from the doorway in which stood a slightly shorter (in comparison to both Roy and Archer) man in a white mask. Roy didn't question this person's intentions, however, he just let Archer go on towards him.

Roy shifted his eyes downward, focusing on the clashes of colours in his suitcase—his clothes, his few belongings, and… a small picture of Archer.

"I'll see you on the train, Mustang," the pale Colonel said after a time, then followed the masked man down the hallway.

Roy snapped his suitcase shut with a sharp snap, and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I guess so."

**And so it goes on and on**

**Melodies of life**

**To the sky beyond the flying birds**

Forever and beyond… 

The train jarred its way down the track.

They would be near Liore soon.

It was all Roy could do to ignore Archer and his newly-revealed puppet.

That damn Zolf J. Kimbley, allowed to sit by _his_ Archer. He was supposed to be dead, anyway! It wasn't right. Archer belonged to Roy, not that… that _pawn_. He knew that Archer was only using him, anyway, so why should it matter to him? It shouldn't. Archer knew his place, and he would never sheat on him… _right_?

His gaze fell over the ever-changing landscape, noticing how cities flew into forest then morphed into sands. How ruins peaked up from dirt and rock like long-forgotten memories, and Roy wondered if at one time they had been proud and tall, their peeks reaching up into the sky and their streets lined with people, all moving over the concrete like blood through a vein.

The Flame Alchemist watched the skyline, seeing several birds floating on a breeze, up and down flying up higher then lower on it course. Where were they going, he wondered to himself. Were they going to someplace better…? Someplace that, perhaps, he'd like to be…?

"Are we _there_ yet?"

Roy whirled at the sound of the Crimson Alchemist's whining, but quickly returned to disregarding him. He was Archer's problem, after all. There was no need for the Flame Colonel to stick his nose into the worries of the pale man.

"We'll be there soon, Lieutenant Colonel. Please, find patience," Archer answered him.

Roy turned back from the window only a few moments to capture a glimpse of ice-blue eyes on him. They were so… cold, covered in brutal ice that seemed to freeze his heart mid-beat.

But deep inside of them… they looked as though they needed him.

Still Roy changed his view back to the window.

It… _hurt_ to neglect Archer.

It wasn't something he wanted to do, but sadly… it needed to be done.

Archer had to realize that Mustang had goals, too… even if he truly wanted to be with Archer forever and beyond… even if it was to cost him the one love he had… _even if..._

**So far and away**

**See the bird as it flies by**

**Gliding through the shadows of the clouds upon the sky**

**I've laid my memories and dreams upon those wings**

**Leave them now**

**And see what tomorrow brings**

The Flame Alchemist had settled himself nicely into his room, but he didn't exactly feel comfortable in it.

"Colonel, is there anything you need?"

Roy turned about to see that Jean Havoc had entered the room, his hand fortified in a strict salute. Despite all this, a cigarette still hung loosely from his lips.

"At ease, Havoc. You don't have to be so constrained around me," the Colonel answered, waving a hand and resting it back onto his desk. He still had to sign a few documents of confirmation before he could do any real moving about.

"Sir, are you sure it was okay for Ed to go off on his own…? And… under the command of Archer?" Havoc questioned, a hint of worry edging into his voice.

Roy sighed angrily, but tried not to take it out on Havoc.

This was all part of Archer's grand scheme, no doubt. It was his way at getting to the top.

Archer… was _no_ human.

"Let Ed do what he wants to do. And if Archer is willing to shoulder the responsibility of taking care of those two brothers, then so be it."

In reality, Roy was more than bothered by this whole situation. He not only disliked that Ed and Al were no longer under his guidance, but that Archer would… betray him so willingly.

The thought made his stomach turn.

Was it all… just a _lie_?

Was it all… just in his mind?

Nevertheless, Havoc gave the Flame Alchemist a brief salute before saying, "Well, if you need anything, sir, I'll be in the next room over," and then shutting the door behind him.

Roy finally disregarded the papers after a time, and turned his attention back to the window. It was all sun and sand in these parts, but he wondered, if back in Central, it was… raining.

There, he caught sight of a bird, gently gliding on a breeze. It was so… beautiful, and yet so old and fragile-looking.

The door creaked open and then shut. A silent hand lay itself on Roy's desk.

"Colonel Mustang, I suppose you're doing well?"

Roy's heart nearly leapt up into his throat at the sound of that voice. Before, he would have expressed how joyous he was at seeing the man before him, but now… no, that heart he had once trusted in had turned into ice.

"Yes, and I suppose you're well, what with all this business keeping Alphonse as collateral. You really should have considered another—"

"There was no other way, Roy, and this is my business. I don't need you sticking your nose into everything I—"

Suddenly, Roy jumped from his chair and pinned the pale Colonel to the door in a matter of seconds. The door creaked in protest, almost as if it were to break, but held tight to its hinges. Icy eyes flashed in fear, if only for a few moments, yet were unable to meet with Roy's obsidians.

"Why?! Why is there nothing more important to you than this damn war?! Innocent lives—countless innocent lives—are all going to perish because of you! I—I don't understand…" Roy began to yell, and then finally pitifully protest as he sank into Archer's chest.

The other man seemed hesitant, then lay an alabaster hand onto Roy's shoulder.

"Why do we do anything in this world, Roy? Why do we scrape so eagerly at the things we know we shouldn't want?"

Roy remained silent, and a delicate hand began to caress the strands of his raven-colored hair in-between its slender fingers.

"…Because we're human," Archer finally answered himself, pressing a palm to Roy's cheek to tilt his face upward.

Roy looked into those eyes, trying desperately to search for something—anything—deep within the ice. And yet there seemed nothing to find—no soul, no heart, no human hiding inside those endless cold blues.

"…You're not human, Frank. You couldn't be."

The Flame Alchemist broke away from Archer, but a pale hand held fast to his arm.

"Do you know how much it hurts me when you say that…?" Archer asked, pleadingly, but Roy jerked his arm free and steadily paced to his desk to rest his forearms on its smooth oaken surface.

"…Get out, Archer."

Not another word passed between them, and the door slammed shut with a bang.

And Roy was alone.

His ebony eyes glanced upward again to see the bird had fallen into the sand, its last breath escaping in a rattling squawk.

**In your dearest memories**

**Do you remember loving me…?**

**Was it fate**

**That brought us close and now leaves me behind…?**

To think that at one point Roy had opened up his heart to the pale man before him.

To think that at one point the Flame Alchemist had really considered making his life work with a cold-blooded beast whose only obsession was war and death.

To think…

There really was no point in that anymore.

The gun was held fast to him, and into his eyes peered those same cold blue eyes, now more frigid and blue as they had ever been.

It was the epitome of betrayal—once Roy had loved him, this cruel man, and now he was to be killed by him. _'The thing we love kills us'_ is a saying that applies here accurately, Roy thought as he prepared himself to bake a chimera spring-loaded to fly into him and rip him to shreds with razors as teeth.

He could see Archer leaving… fading from view as the first chimera pounced but was quickly stopped in its tracks by a quick shot from Hawkeye and Armstrong rammed another against an open cage.

Flames from the Colonel's glove began to dance and swirl amidst the small and dimly lit space, but still Roy watched Archer leaving, his heart beating fast in his chest.

He was a fool.

A bitter fool that would never learn any better.

…Because… he still loved him.

**A voice from the past**

**Joining yours and mine**

**Adding up the layers of harmony…**

It was a bitter and cold rain.

When Roy had heard the news of the complete wipeout of Liore, he wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

At first, he was upset at the lives all lost there—all the soldiers, all the random casualties and injuries.

And then he thought of him… _Archer_.

He kept his feelings in stow, though. He should be glad the traitor was dead—he should be happy! But… he felt a sort of numbness settle over him.

He… he loved that wicked man. Even in the bitter end of things, he had felt that if only he could have said something different, if only he had spoken in some other way, he could have prevented the course of events as they had happened.

But… there was no saving Archer, he convinced himself.

Even in this bitter rain, birds still flew, though they were weak and bared down with the weight of drop after merciless drop of water. Roy had been correct in his thinking of the rain at Central.

The Fuhrer simply nodded and smiled off the cold, and ordered Roy and Armstrong to lead the campaign against Drachma. Of course, Roy knew what this meant. He knew the Fuhrer intended them to be killed on the battlefield, just like any other random and meaningless casualty.

But Roy had a plan.

He would stay here and await the movement of the cavalry, and then he would move in swiftly, right to the Fuhrer's doorstep, and assassinate him as quickly as possible.

Yes, this was Roy's perfect plan, all until the name "Colonel Archer" popped back up.

**And so it goes on and on**

**Melodies of life**

**To the sky beyond the flying birds**

**Forever and—**

_What_?! Archer—_alive_?! Roy's heart went aflutter at the sound of that wonderful name.

The dark clouds of the harsh evening seemed to lift all around him, and the birds, he swore, seemed to sing to him again. They sounded as though they hadn't sung at all after he had heard the news of Archer's passing.

But now… Roy felt his heart swell and nearly burst with emotion. He would have screamed the truth from a mountain-top if he could.

_'I love you!'_

He had forgotten how many times he had longed to say it to him—how many times he had wished he could go back and yell it at him—and he had nearly forgotten what it felt like to hold him in his arms and whisper sweet forevers in his ear.

But then… the feeling turned back into darkness.

The happiness fled as he realized Archer was to be the personal bodyguard to the Fuhrer's estate.

The feeling of love… faded quickly into dread.

No… if Archer was to be here, protecting the Fuhrer…

Then Roy knew he would have to kill Archer himself.

**If I should leave**

**This lonely world behind**

**Your voice will still remember our melody**

**Now I know we'll carry on**

**Melodies of life**

**Come circle round and grow deep in our hearts…**

It was the same exact situation—the gun, pointed directly at the Flame Alchemist, the holder of the gun, grinning in victory.

And this time, Roy knew he wouldn't be able to survive.

Already, he had lost at least five cups worth of blood, and still it flowed from him at an alarming pace.

A single icy eye peered up evilly at Roy, the other red and sanguine lay still and motionless in its mechanical socket.

Roy wondered… _'Will he remember me? Will his voice still speak my name in longing…? Will he still… love me…?'_

No words were spoken between the two; they just simply shared a split second of understanding, almost comforting, as Archer pulled the trigger.

It all remained still as the bullet entered his left eye, punctured it, the pain splitting up into his head until he felt his brain give out and some darkness overtake him.

In the back of his mind, he heard gunshots firing round after round, and in his barely capable state he looked up to see Archer, or what had been Archer in a former life, shudder and give way like a fragile house of cards—like an old decrepit bird.

He thought he could hear it raining, faintly.

'_General…! General…!'_

But the voice all around him cut out and everything blurred at its edges. The picture faded, but still he swore he could see the pale Colonel's dim outline, welcoming, with a reprieving smile. He drew closer than he ever had before, felt his white skin as soft as snow moving beneath him, and he could feel himself whisper, '_I love you.'_

But there came no answer as the image dissipated into the blackness.

…**As long as we remember…**

Roy touched his missing eye with a shaking hand at the memory, but instead felt a soft black vinyl at his fingertips. His other hand held a withered photo, several years old, that had been moved and shifted and wrinkled and torn, and yet it still withheld all the beauty it had when it had first been taken. The photo was of a young face—a brilliant face still untouched by the harshness of the world and its machinery—with high cheekbones, an arched brow, a slender nose, and mocking eyes.

And though one couldn't tell it by the photo, those eyes were made of ice.

…Yet Roy would still say otherwise.

"…And the funny thing is, even if you were to laugh at me and then pull the trigger… As long as I remember you the way I do… I would _still_ love you."


End file.
